The Rebound Plan
by Fanastixx
Summary: After Ron kisses Lavender, Hermione concocts a plan to get over him...by purposely developing a rebound crush on Professor Snape. Eventual SSHG.
1. The Plan Begins

A/N: Hello! It's been a while since I've written anything, so I am pretty rusty. This fic is not properly beta'ed, just read over by me and a few of my friends, so please, if you see anything wrong don't hesitate to tell me! I hope you enjoy.

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I don't stop crying because I've managed to run out of tears. I can sense them constantly pushing at the bottom of my eyes, and my heart feels like it was sucked up by Ronald Weasley's lips while he was inexpertly fishing for Lavender's tonsils. They don't quit out of anger either, though I feel like I could blast off part of the castle wall and chew it to gravel, I am that enraged.

I stop crying because my famed brain finally kicks in, and it is screaming, '_What the _hell_ are you doing?'_

And truthfully Brain, I am not sure.

I'm sitting here sobbing over a silly boy, and while Ron is usually a good friend of mine, I know that when it comes to maturity and intelligence he is a bit…lacking. And instead of acting like the mature and intelligent adult I know I can be, I'm treating the infidelity of my unrequited crush as if Voldemort personally blew up my cat.

Not to mention attacking him like the biggest jealous cow in the history of Wizarding Britain. I attacked one of my two best friends whom I wasn't and now will probably never date in front of my other best friend with a flock of _birds_. A move mental enough to be a plot device from an Alfred Hitchcock movie!

The shame is debilitating. I rather doubt I have any friends at this point. I wouldn't be friends with a crazy freak like me.

I know that the others in the school think of me as a walking, talking book with ridiculous hair, and I guess I started to see myself like that as well. I would never have imagined that I would react so poorly to slight emotional trauma. I mean, what would I do if I were in a real relationship with a man I loved and I caught him cheating on me? Based off my recent behaviour, there is a good chance I'd become a bloody murderer.

This thought is so disconcerting that I decide right then and there that I will never allow my emotions to get the better of me when it comes to the opposite sex. And first on the agenda for this decision was finding a way to get rid of my ridiculous infatuation with that prat Ronald.

I cast a mild cleansing spell on my face to get rid of the tear tracks and snot, and exit the dusty classroom I had been hiding in. If I hurried, I would have just enough time to search the library for ways to tackle my dilemma before curfew.

I would deal with this like with anything else: with research and planning and possibly some colour-coded charts.

:

At breakfast the next morning Harry approaches me as if I am a feral Hippogriff, which would be amusing if I wasn't so surprised that he was approaching me at all.

"Hey, Hermione, how're you?" he says slowly, obviously testing the waters.

"I'm fine, Harry." And really, I am. Before he came down I had been having a rather bad morning, since apparently wizards think they are too good for self-help books and so my library search last night was a total bust, and I had to sleep in the Common Room to avoid the graphic blow-by-blow storytelling that Lavender was giving Parvati on the joys of Ron's tongue slipperiness or some such rot.

But Harry is still talking to me. I could almost cry from joy.

"Good, that's…good." Harry took a deep breath, as if he were about to dive into the lake. "Look, about Ron-"

I cut him off with a noise that I'm afraid to say sounded like an angry cat. I am in _no_ way prepared for this conversation. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't want to talk about him, nor do I want to talk _to_ him. I know we weren't dating or anything, but my feelings are still rather hurt. About my reaction last night, though-"

From where I'm sitting I can see the exact moment Ron enters the room, Lavender's arm already attached to his waist like a creeping vine. His eyes meet mine with a glare that could set my curly hair on fire, and I can feel my face losing blood. Harry, oblivious to Ron's entrance, goes, "Yeah?"

Oh Merlin, I can see the marks where the canaries pecked his face and arms. I feel like dirt. I furiously whisper to Harry, "Just tell him if you can that I am very, very sorry for attacking him, and I really shouldn't have done that!" before exiting the hall like I'm being chased by Death Eaters.

There are times for Gryffindor courage, and then there are times for strategic retreats to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom for a good cry before Charms.

:

I scour the library four more times before I finally give up on finding anything useful there; feeling rather betrayed that it let me down in my time of need.

I also try and fail to ask Ginny for advice. I get five words in before I give up because it is just too awkward to talk to her about her brother like that. I even ponder asking Luna her thoughts, but I really am not in the mood to hear about how the key to emotional stability is getting rid of the mumpties in my socks or whatever other Quibbler nonsense.

I have a terrible feeling that the right person to ask about this would be Lavender, but I'll be damned if I do that. She has taken to glaring and whispering to Parvati whenever she sees me, probably because I mauled her boyfriend. Living with them becomes more hellish than usual.

Tonight I decided to take another crack at that Gryffindor courage stuff. I would like to stay in my room and pet my cat and read an improving book, and I will not be run off by gossipy cows.

Just as I settle down with a copy of _Magical Melodies: The Spell of Song _the door bangs open, and the two aforementioned cows come clomping in. Luckily I thought to pull my curtain closed earlier, and I hope to go unnoticed.

Apparently not. After some fervent whispering that I can't make out, Lavender says in an unnecessarily loud voice, "Oh, I wish Won-Won could come up here to our rooms! Don't you think that sounds fun, Parvati? It'd be like a slumber party!"

Parvati, to her credit, replies only with a rather bored, "Sure." I can still feel my hands curl into claws, though. I am in danger of ripping a page.

Lavender giggles and goes on. "It would be great fun! It's awful that the Founders were such prudes, sneaking around in empty classrooms is just not going to cut it for much longer…." Suddenly my curtains are ripped back, and that blonde menace is looking down at me with the most stomach-curdling smug look I've seen since Lucius Malfoy.

"What do you think, Hermione? Know any ways around the girls-only wards in those little books of yours?"

I can't think of anything cleverly cutting to say, I just upend Crookshanks from my lap and stalk to the door. I can hear their tittering even over the sound of it slamming.

I make it down to the Common Room before I realize I have no idea what to do now. Harry and Ginny (and Ron, I suppose) are at Quidditch practice, and for once I don't wish to head to the library. Being surrounded by all that knowledge but not a single book to help me is just too stressful for me at the moment.

I decide to go to the Prefects' Bathroom to try and take a long, calming bath until practice is over and Lavender can reattach herself to her parasite host and leave me be. I get there before I notice that sadly I left my book back in the dorm in my fit of pique, and swimming and meditating for two hours sounds dreadfully dull.

Luckily there is a whole stack of _Witch Weekly_ magazines left in here to keep me company. Not exactly scintillating stuff, but it will do.

It's as I'm looking through the letters to the Editor about the boundless stupidity of the male sex, surrounded by warm water and luridly green bubbles that smell of mint, that I become aware that I am holding the answer to all my problems in my hand.

The only witches to write in to this disturbingly cutesy magazine were my fellow deranged emotional sufferers, and it was the writers' jobs to answer all their questions. Surely I can find something that could apply to getting over some teenage toe rag without causing further bodily harm.

I flip through six periodicals, all full of fashion tips and questionable articles of such quality that I would hesitate to line an owl cage with them before I come across the title '_True Love Found, or Rebound?'_

It isn't the article itself that catches my interest, because it's just some rubbish speculating about Celestina Warbeck and her new beau. The real highlight is a small paragraph at the bottom of the page with the headline _'What's Wrong with Rebounds?'_

' "_I don't see what the big deal is," comments Junior Editor Hailey Harp. "I always find the easiest way to get over a bad break up is to pick up a rebound boy-toy. Whether it becomes a quick and easy fling or something more lasting depends on what the wizard is like, but I think you girls will agree with me that getting over your old man with someone exciting and new is probably a much-needed ego boost after what you've gone through. You're the one in control of your feelings, and you can do whatever you feel like!" '_

I could feel that this is exactly what I was searching for. The girl power hoo-rah vibe really spoke to me and my bruised heart. The only problem is I didn't have an interest in anyone besides Ron, so who would I pick as my new crush?

Oh, what did it matter? I have been labeled the smartest witch of my age, I am positive I could easily teach myself to like someone suitable.

:

The next morning at breakfast I avidly search the Great Hall for a candidate for my affections. I had spent a good amount of time last night checking through the remaining editions of _Witch Weekly_ and drawing up guidelines for my 'rebound boy-toy'.

So far I had this list in a special journal, which I charmed to be for my eyes only:

_Someone I won't like too much and who won't like me back._

I had thought about it long and hard last night, and had figured it was for the best if I didn't actually pursue my new crush. Not only would Ron probably think I actually did rebound and pick up some bloke out of pathetic need or to spite him, I also didn't want to deal with the possibility of me liking this new person too much. My level of emotional maturity is depressingly not high enough for an actual boyfriend.

This meant I had to be discerning about who to pick for my target. It would be bad if they noticed my sudden interest and decided to pick me up. Or worse, ran away screaming at the thought of being seen as cute by Hermione 'Shrieking Rules Harpy' Granger (thank you, Fred and George).

_Someone I can have lustful thoughts about._

If I was going to force myself to be infatuated with someone as a learning experience on feelings, I plan on having some fun with it, and it could be another training exercise in exploring my burgeoning sexuality. I refuse to add 'prudish' to my list of rude monikers.

I also used to fantasize about Ron and me…but the less said about his kissing abilities, the better. And he appears to get so handsy! I dodged a jinx there, I think.

_Someone who can't let me down._

This was a bit odd to expect of some random boy, but was very important to me. So far in my life all my crushes have let me down in some way, or have managed to hurt my feelings rather badly. Gilderoy Lockhart turned out to be a useless fraud. A boy I liked over the summer holidays told me he wasn't into bossy beavers. Viktor Krum could also be offputtingly handsy, and Ron…well.

Looking back, my track record with the opposite sex is rather shite. Seventeen and one date to my name. How does Ginny do it?

I need to find someone whom I know doesn't have the power to tromp on these feelings I'm trying to cultivate.

So. Those were the guidelines, pretty short and concise. Should be easy to find someone to fit all three, right?

Wrong.

I try scanning the Hall again, hoping my hormones would perk up and pick somebody already. My eyes pause a few times on the other tables' wares, trying to gauge if they could set fire to my loins, but no luck there. So much for being a slave to my carnal desires.

The Gryffindor boys are out of the question. The ones that weren't two or more years younger than I were either like annoying little brothers or found me intimidating. The only upperclassman who didn't look to feel that way was Cormac McLaggen, and I'd rather snog Peeves before that arsehole.

The Ravenclaw boys seem to be no good either, since most of their House hate my intellectually-superior guts and will probably be the quickest to notice any undue attention directed their way. And all the possibly interesting Hufflepuff boys are taken and I would feel terrible looking at another girl's fellow in that way.

Another problem with picking anyone from those three Houses is Ginny is likely to notice and try her hand at matchmaker. She has an uncanny knack for this kind of thing, and the only person who has ever found 'Hermione-with-a-crush' subtle was the King Dunderhead himself, Ronald Weasley.

And then Slytherin House…no, just no. They do have the prettiest boys, but I will not lust after a wizard who thinks I'm dirty and am no better than a dog to be put down. It is too disturbing to contemplate.

_So._ Absolutely bloody no one! My ingenious plan dies an ignoble death not even twelve hours in.

Harry finally comes down to breakfast right as I conjure a bluebell flame (Without speaking! My practice is paying off) to destroy the evidence. Better safe than sorry.

"Uh…Hermione? What are you doing?"

"Nothing, Harry," I try to say nonchalantly as possible. Harry with a mystery to solve is worse than a crup with a bone. "Just destroying some Arithmancy work that I completely botched."

Just as I start to lower my wand to the notebook, Harry grabs my wrist and leans in to whisper, "I don't think you should do that here if you don't want to get detention. Snape is looking right at you."

I look up just in time to catch the tail end of the glare he is sending my way, the flame on the tip of my wand sputtering out as our eyes meet and my body shivers uncontrollably.

Interesting….

It seems the hormones have finally chosen, and they have picked Professor Snape.

I shoo Harry off to sit with Ron, claiming homework. I need to see right away if the professor fits into the guidelines.

'_Someone I won't like too much and who won't like me back.'_ That won't be a problem, definitely not. And the thought of him liking the Insufferable Know-It-All is just too ridiculous. Another plus is absolutely no one would guess that I'm paying so much attention to Professor Snape because I'm trying to trick myself into developing an infatuation. At most they might think I finally decided he was no good and needed to be watched (Harry) or figure it's some teacher's pet thing (everyone else).

'_Someone I can have lustful thoughts about.'_ This may be a bit harder. I look up again at the Head table. Professor Snape looks to be staring in faint disgust at the amount of food Professor Slughorn has piled on his plate next to him, and then turns away when Professor McGonagall puts a hand on his arm. My eyes closely follow the movement of his thin lips as he starts to smirk at whatever she says to him.

That little smirk sends another thrill through me. It seems now that the idea has been planted, my body is very ready to see him as a sexual prospect. Who would've guessed?

And then #3, '_Someone who can't let me down.'_ Weirdly enough, despite how mean he can be, I don't think this will ever be an issue. I have always respected Professor Snape, even after he has made me cry multiple times. My regard has only grown over the years as I found out he was such a masterful spy and brilliant Defence teacher, the best I personally think we've had so far.

I certainly know he's no joke like Lockhart, and after five and a half years of mockery I've been able to grow a much thicker skin around him. He's also brave, intelligent, and very interesting.

I can feel a smirk of my own forming as I write SEVERUS SNAPE in my journal and circle it a few times, then draw in some little hearts with a laugh.

My ingenious plan is back on the rails.

And personally, I think it is going to work out _brilliantly_.

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Thanks for reading, please R&R. Constructive criticism is most definitely welcomed, and I plan to have a second chapter up soon.


	2. The Plan in Motion

A/N: Hello again, and thanks for reading the next chapter! Like before, this is minimally beta read by me and a few friends, so if there are any mistakes please don't hesitate to tell me! I am also not British, so if that part sounds weird I'd love to know.

If anyone is interested, I read on the HP Wiki that the Quidditch match that Ron and Lavender got together after was in the first/second weekend of November, so this chapter goes through about the 2nd/3rd week of Nov. up to the beginning of December.

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_Day 12 of the Plan- Progress Update_

_Have finally laid down all the groundwork for my epic infatuation. I can't believe it took so long! My homework buffer has suffered as a consequence; I believe I'm only two weeks ahead in my reviewing of future coursework instead of the usual three. It has paid off though, because I now have (with judicious use of the Marauder's Map) been able to make a schedule tracking Snape's movements._

_I do believe I am now the only non-Slytherin in the history of his teaching career to know when his office hours are._

_I have also managed to switch Prefect rounds with some Hufflepuffs so that I now stalk the corridors at the same times as he does. I'm not sure if I'll even be able to see him during, but it definitely feels like I'm making some headway (I noticed as well that he seems to do patrols more than any other faculty member besides Filch. I wonder if that is Headmaster Dumbledore's doing, or does he just love catching miscreants that much? Might wish to investigate further)._

_Other additions to the journal have been copies of _Witch Weekly _articles that I have deemed relevant, a list of his likes and dislikes (So far it pretty much consists of dislikes: dunderheads, Gryffindors, Harry, likes: Potions, Dark Arts/DADA, and point-taking. I hope I am able to glean more), and an attempted outline of traits I like about him but which, I'm sad to say, spiraled into a rant about how such an intelligent and honourable man can be such a mean-spirited git. This may or may not have been caused by him taking points off my essay _again_ for going over the assigned amount. _

_Sadly I have not been able to think of a plan to sneak his medical file away from Madam Pomfrey in order to learn his birth date and…other significant details it may hold._

_So far so good, all in all. Time to move onto the next part in the plan- Daily Observations. I shall watch him as closely as possible during meals, classes, and any chance interactions to develop my affection for the man, and write it all down for a review on the feeling later at my leisure._

_We are both in the Great Hall at the moment, eating breakfast. He looks…rather grouchy, actually, noticeably moreso than usual somehow. Possibly not a morning person? Oh, Madam Hooch has sat next to him for some reason, usually Professor McGonagall sits there but she is over by the headmaster today. Her and Professor Snape seem to be rather good friends, House rivalries aside. He doesn't seem to be enjoying Hooch's presence at all, she's blathering on and it looks like he is making a concerted effort to not roll his eyes out of his skull and is failing miserably. Probably going on about Quidditch, bloody fanatics._

_Ah, one mystery solved: Snape is a coffee drinker. And judging by the state of his teeth, it is probably black enough to strip paint. He is eating what look to be beans, tomatoes, eggs, and toast-Oh Merlin is he dipping his toast in the coffee?!_

_Honestly, that is just disgusti-_

"Hermione! Hello, Earth to Hermione?"

I startle back from the table, almost falling off the bench but my descent is immediately stopped by Harry and Ginny grabbing me by the arm on either side. I guess Quidditch reflexes can be useful at times.

"Oh!" I let all my breath out in a big whoosh, feeling rattled. "Good morning, you two. No practice today?"

"Nah, Mr. Captain here is too lazy for early morning practice on Saturday, "says Ginny. "Speaking of, what are you so busy at work on? You do realize that studying can't be a 24/7 deal, yeah?"

"Take a look for yourself." I push the notebook towards her with only the slightest trepidation. Time to see if the couple of days I spent on the concealing enchantments will pay off. If not, well…I am pretty proficient with a voiceless _Confundus._

"What the…" I hear her mutter, and I immediately move to snatch it back, but then Harry leans across me with a "Lemme see" and proceeds to almost push his body into my lap to get his head as close to Ginny's as possible.

I can feel my eyebrows climbing to untold heights. So Harry finally got a clue, huh? I would be much more proud of him if he wasn't treating me as part of the bench at the moment. I shall let it slide for now, but he is definitely getting a piece of my mind later, and then maybe some advice.

Ginny looks up from the notebook to see my occupant's face is practically buried in her hair, and nudges him off me and back into his seat with a laugh, with him blushing all the way. My heroine! She then pushes the journal back in front of me and sighs, "Okay, I'm afraid this looks to be completely beyond me. What is it I'm staring at? I can recognize a couple of the runes, and I know some of it must be arithmancy, but otherwise…"

Harry pipes up with a "Hey, I know that one, _E = mc2_, and some of the mathematics. This looks insane, Hermione!"

I feel an odd mix of accomplishment, relief and lingering worry. The time and effort it took to find the spells and copy down all the miscellaneous formulas I could remember or look up has paid off, but now I have to convincingly run with it, and I am complete pants at lying.

"Uhh…" Great start Hermione, really. "It's just a little side-project I'm working on, you know, trying to combine Muggle science with magic…nothing really major. Just a fun, err, way to pass the time."

Well, I'll never win any awards, but it seems to be working this time. They both have turned to me with looks of awe on their faces. It makes me squirm.

"To pass the- but that's amazing!" Harry exclaims.

"Yeah," chimes in Ginny, "I don't believe anyone has ever really tried to do this before. I think you should definitely pursue this project of yours."

Harry ruffles my hair and says, "Remus was right when he called you the smartest witch of your age. You're going to go places, Hermione."

I try to hide my madly blushing face behind my hair, feeling the weight of their undeserved praise pressing down on me. And to think, right when they surprised me I had been speculating if chewing with your mouth open was more revolting than dunking your toast in coffee.

As the conversation around me predictably turns to planning for the next Quidditch match, I sneak a look down the table. Ron is, just as predictably, wildly waving a fork with a half-eaten sausage on the end around while talking with his mouth full of the other half. Lavender seems blissfully unaware of how close she was to being pronged in the ear while buttering her toast, but Parvati is unluckily sitting across from them and is recoiling in horror from the barrage of sausage-spittle.

I then just as sneakily return to looking at the staff table, where Professor Snape is now dicing his tomatoes with the skill and grace befitting a Potions Master and calmly eating them like a civilized human being.

Well, I guess the toast thing can't be as disgusting as I thought, although it is incredibly odd. At least I have something to add to his 'Likes' list now.

:

_Day 23- Progress Update_

_I find it a bit silly to call this a 'progress' update when no actual progress has been made. I have come to the realization that, despite all my hard work and careful planning, I have hit the proverbial wall._

_The plan looks to have failed. _

_I've tried everything I can think of. I have written daily observations for every meal we have shared, after every class, and if I happened to catch sight of Snape on my patrols, or the library, etc. I now know he is a coffee addict, and if the elves ever 'forget' to serve a pot (I suspect interference from the headmaster) he will take tea, but with a sneer on his face the whole time. He is also a big fan of tomatoes with a special love for tomato soup, and prefers his eggs as an omelet with the aforementioned fruit and spinach. The only discernible difference I can make between his daily wear is the button colour: he usually wears black buttoned clothing, but I have seen dark green and pearly white before. The only people he appears to have willing conversations with are Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, and everyone else he merely tolerates except for Trelawney (whom just seeing merits a lip curl)._

_What is the point of all this? I'm not studying to be his wife, so I can really give a pig's arse about how he likes his omelet. I'm supposed to be dreaming about doing lewd, rude things to his body and I can't bloody do it!_

_I've tried, I most certainly have. For the last six days I have forced myself to read over and over the sex scenes from the few romance novels I managed to get my hands on, while imagining my teacher in the lead roles before going to sleep, and not even a whisper of a wet dream. I got points taken off for inattentiveness in DADA class for the first time in my life because I was trying to undress him with my eyes, and that didn't work either._

_I know I am attracted to him, I feel that thrill when I look at him sometimes. I just can't seem to take the attraction any further than that visceral reaction. I have a feeling that it's my own respect for authority that is holding me back._

_I remember it being much easier to imagine kissing Lockhart when I had that foolish schoolgirl crush on him then it is to even picture touching Snape's hand. Maybe it was the air of affability that the blond fop had that made it easier?_

_I hope not, if this plan hinges on Professor Snape suddenly becoming a nice chap then it is most certainly doomed. There must be another way._

_Speaking of lewd and rude, I just witnessed Ron groping Lavender's breast, in the Common Room in front of everybody! They are obviously having sex, that prick, I just want to _scream_-_

I close the journal and sigh. I don't need to reread my vitriolic two page rant from last night; I can remember every sharply written word as if it were emblazoned on the back of my eyelids.

I look up to the staff table; Snape has skipped lunch again. Not that I really need another entry on his eating habits or another tally on how many times he can sneer before the meal ends.

This really wasn't going the way I expected at all. I thought by now I'd be happily leaving thoughts of Ron in the dust for more mature pastures. Instead I seem to be getting angrier as time passes, but at least not to an 'attack birds' level. It has been a month since Won-Won and Lav-Lav got together, and this jealousy needs to stop.

If I can't come up with some way to salvage this scheme by the end of the day, I'm going to scrap it.

:

I stand with everyone else outside of the Defence class, feeling almost as nervous as Neville always looks. This was the last period of the day, and my last real chance to turn this thing around.

The familiar 'Enter!' booms out from beyond the closed door. I hang back, intent on being one of the last to enter instead of my usual first. My brain is kicking into overdrive as we all start to file in, trying to think of anything, any way to-

_Whoa…_

I come to a halt in the doorway, my eyes glued to the front of the room where Professor Snape stands with his back to the class. He looks so _different_. His hair has been pulled into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck, and his billowy robes are gone for the first time that I've ever seen, and I can trace the lines of his broad shoulders down to his slim waist and oh my goodness, I can actually see the shape of his arse!

I'm standing so transfixed that I barely notice that Neville is pulling on my hand and leading me to a seat, rambling on about not getting in trouble or something. As my bum hits the chair I snap out of it, hastily looking around to see if anyone else has noticed my odd behaviour, but no, everybody is too busy whispering about whatever could be in the big chest that Snape is fiddling with. Even Neville is distracted by it, leaning towards me to whisper, "You don't think that's another boggart, do you? He'll kill me if it's him wearing my gram's dress again…"

Any reply I could make is stopped by Snape turning to face the class with a "Silence! Wands away and robes off." Neville and others immediately hop to the strange requests, but my mind is too busy blaring _'robes off' _on repeat to even think of complying. My brain comes back online when a wave of snickers rises up from my fellow housemates over how some of the Slytherins didn't bother to wear trousers under their robes today. I shrug off my robes and hastily try to encourage my hair into letting me pull it back from my face into a plait.

Snape takes 20 points from Gryffindor and then begins the lesson with, "I have noticed a disturbing trend in recent lessons, and that is if any of you were actually in a real duel, it would be take much more than magic and," here he shoots a poisonous look at Harry, "miracles to save you. Although, knowing your past professors in the subject, I wonder why I bothered to be surprised.

"Today we will be learning the one true basic of Defence that has somehow managed to escape you these past five years: Dodging." His dark eyes narrow to slits as the class makes disbelieving sounds. I inwardly groan. This was going to be a lesson based on physical aptitude? Damn it.

"Let me remind you all that the only true way to deal with the Unforgivables is to get out of their way. A _protego _will not save you from the Killing Curse." He turns around and opens the box. Immediately six balls that look like bludgers with a green hole painted on fly out to circle around him.

"These are training devices designed by Professor Flitwick and myself to help you react to oncoming spells instead of simply staring like startled calves. They will each shoot a jet of green light at their target, if you are hit you will sport a green mark for the next few days, so try to at least get hit on an area covered by your clothing. You will drop down a grade for each time you are hit. Come, gather around me."

We all move towards the front, where with a wave of Snape's wand we are all given a twig. My belly gives a squirm as he lightly smirks at our looks of confusion. "These will be your wands for the lesson. If you manage to break it, you will automatically fail and owe me a paper due by next class on proper wand protection techniques."

Out of the corner of my eye I see Ron gulp. Second year must be coming back to him.

Snape suddenly turns and strides away from us, looking rather strange without his robes dancing around him. The non-bludgers obediently follow. Once he reaches the middle of the open space where we usually practice spell-casting, he turns back to face us while stowing his wand up a sleeve.

"I shall give a demonstration. _Incipio_."

Immediately the balls that were floating around the professor spring to life, moving back to surround him on all sides with their small green dots now shining with an eerie light. Snape goes into a slightly crouching position, calculating gaze waiting for any sign of movement.

Suddenly the one on his immediate left shoots a stream of light that Snape easily sidesteps, and then it begins in earnest. The devices pull no punches, they fire at his back, at his feet, straight at his eyes to blind him, or gang up and fire all at once. And not a single one hits him.

I knew in a vague sort of way that Professor Snape was a good duelist, but now it is increasingly obvious that he is a master at this branch of magic as well. He ducks and dodges and spins with a feline sort of grace, keeping light on his toes despite the thick boots he always wears. When the lights shoot from all directions at once, he immediately drops to the floor, rolling and popping back up with ease as they take aim for his prone form.

I feel like I've fallen under thrall as I watch this man turn a lesson on staying alive into a beautiful dance. My hands are in front of my mouth to hold back the gasps that are clamoring to escape, my heart is pounding and twisting warmth is pooling in my lower stomach. I cannot look away.

After about twenty light bursts the demonstration comes to an end. Snape straightens from his defensive position, adjusting his frock coat and running a hand through his hair to pull out the band holding it back, my eager eyes alighting on a distinct widow's peak and closely cropped, short sideburns as he does so. As he turns to address the class, only the lack of robes and a light sheen of sweat give a sign to what just transpired. I have to fight the urge to applaud like a starstruck fool.

"As you saw, the training spheres will attack from all sides and will not take mercy on a target when it is down, just like enemies in a real combat situation. You will go in alphabetical order. Miss Abbott, you are first."

I barely pay attention as my year mates begin to collect lurid green spots, only tuning in to see how Lavender immediately gets hit in the cheek by the device, painting half her lower face. My sights are almost exclusively on Snape, trying to soak up every little detail I could. There is going to be one hell of a journal entry later.

I don't notice when the 'G' names come, and only know my time has come by the sudden focus on me by the object of my intense focus. I rush over into the group of spheres before I can be berated, the grip on my twig quickly becoming sweaty. I only have a second to prepare myself for what is sure to be a lesson thick with humiliation before the first bolt comes at me.

It is surprisingly easy to sidestep; obviously it has been put on a lower setting. The next two come faster, but are also rather simple to dodge.

Then two lights shoot off at once. For some reason I decide to call on my few years of youthful ballet lessons instead of hitting the floor like a normal person, and do an odd sideways pirouette to avoid them. I right away feel when one hits the end of my plait; my heavy hair gets even heavier and whips me off balance.

My vision is immediately taken over by an overwhelming blaze of green. The laughter and worried yells of 'Hermione!' take second fiddle to my own whimpering as I bring my hands to my eyes, feeling the paint staining the area. It has managed to get in my eyes, and it burns like fire.

I hear, "Do not rub at them, you silly girl" as strong, warm hands grab my own and pull them away from my face, then drag me off somewhere to the left. Only as I hear the same voice call out, "Miss Greengrass, it is your turn" do I clue in to the fact that _Professor Snape is holding my hands_. A wave of giddiness washes through me despite my agony.

His hands let go, and I barely have a moment to mourn their loss before I feel him grab my chin and lift it up to the light. My light gasp prompts a "Be still, and open your eyes." I immediately comply and wince at the increase in pain, which causes the hand to hold my face tighter.

I hear a murmured spell, and instantly the hand and the horrid paint on my face are gone. With my vision clear, I can see that I am now standing closer to this man than I ever have before. His eyes are so dark, so deep…

I snap back into focus as said eyes' brows come down in annoyance, stammering out a thank you as my face burns with a blush.

He scrutinizes my face for a second before lightly snorting through that prodigious nose of his. "Not up to your usual exacting standards today, are you Miss Granger? I do believe that performance will only earn an Acceptable, if even that."

I grimace at the thought; an Acceptable is too close to a failing grade for comfort. I nod and say, "Yes sir, I will try to do better next time."

I earn a nod in return; he replies "See that you do. This lesson will be more important in times to come than any number of books you can parrot back at me. Now, go join the rest." He immediately dismisses me, turning to look at the new student entering the ring.

I spend the rest of the class watching the others go, smarting from my low grade and trying to pick up tricks from them, but at all times aware of Snape standing off to the side, arms crossed over a lean but sturdy chest as he hurls abuse at the many unlucky ones.

Theodore Nott manages to trip on his robes and break his twig after the second hit; Snape resignedly assigns him the essay. Neville does as well as I do, which he is over the moon about, and Harry and Malfoy get perfect scores, which annoys me immensely because it shows me there may be a corollary between being a Seeker and being good at dodging, and I despise flying.

Ron is the last to go, and oh, what a treat it is. His dodging is more accurately described as flailing, and for some reason on the last go he sticks out his hand as if trying to smack the light, and gets a palm full of green paint for his trouble. All in all he got hit three times and gets a Poor for the period.

Malfoy calls out, "Looks like you are a natural Keeper, Weaselbee! Too bad those weren't Quaffles!"

Snape dismisses the class, and we leave in mostly high spirits despite how many of us will be sporting green body parts the next few days, me and my hair included.

Harry comes over, exclaiming, "Wow, I'm stunned to be saying this, but that was a great class! I can't believe we never thought to try something like that for the DA meetings…" he trails off then suddenly runs over to Ron, whom apparently had been trying to comfort Lavender but somehow had stuck his foot in his mouth judging by her half-green scowl.

"Yeah, too bad the DA isn't still going on, that would have been fun," Neville says to me as we start to head back to the Common Room.

"Mhm…" I distractedly reply, the entirety of the last hour or so finally catching up to me. I can feel the tips of my lips twitching like mad as I battle the huge grin threatening to overtake it.

"Erm, Hermione? Are you okay? You've been a bit off all day. You seemed pretty down at lunch, then really distracted in class…"

Damn damn damn! How did I manage to get stuck with the one teenage boy in Gryffindor who actually picks up on things? I turn and look into my friend's caring brown eyes and lie my arse off.

"I'm fine Neville, really. Just, you know… girly things, mood swings… monthly things going on…that kind of stuff." Will I never get better at this?

Neville looks scared and scarpers almost immediately, which probably means Harry and Ron have been telling their dorm mates horror stories about me on my period. Right now I couldn't really bring myself to care though, because I have found my dormant libido!

I let the smile break free as I start to plan the journal entry I'm going to make in my head. First thing I've got to write about are those _eyes_…no wait, those _hands_…or maybe I should skip straight to _that arse_...

:

I wake up with a gasp. I slowly become aware of the slight shake in my limbs, my racing heart, the heat and wetness between my thighs, and how utterly sticky with sweat I am. Overall, I feel a bit gross.

But none of that matters, because I just had my first real sex dream, with Professor Severus Snape as the star.

I can feel myself grinning madly as I reach for the journal.

* * *

Thanks for reading, please read and review, and constructive criticism is always welcomed! Next up is the Slughorn Xmas party :3  
Also I read on the internet that _incipio_ means 'begin' in Latin, if I used it completely wrong I'd love other suggestions.


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